Chapter 608 Ch607 Bellos Taylor

Chapter 608 Ch Taylor

Miss Claudia Hayan Cavendish sent the 'notes' mentioned by Roland.

Came to the door in person and only stayed for half a cup of tea.

She didn't look well, and she didn't look energetic - probably because the Cavendish family was handing over property to Taylor recently, and was disappointed with the stolen secret organ.

Randolph took Barton and asked the servants in the old house one by one.

To be honest, there's nothing much that can be asked.

Roland, on the other hand, was surprised by the borrowed 'notes' - the words on them were so familiar.

Because "all things are radiant", Roland can read any language, but the jumping words in front of him are obviously not clear because of the ability of the secret organ.

He had learned the language long ago.

Fuchino (Language of Thirst).

A language that requires blood to moisten the throat to produce rare and complex syllables.

It was also the key to his passage in that bloody dream, the sound that made people unconsciously addictive and made their stomachs rumble.

Roland handed Betty, who was leaning against her belly, to Teresa, and told Randolph not to let anyone enter the room to disturb him before he came out.

Then.

Light the oil lamp.

Spread out on the table is a parchment called a 'note', which is actually half a 'book'.

This is Jocelyn Cavendish's record book.

The text was mostly written in Fucino, and there were also some languages ​​he could understand but whose names he didn't know.

"ceremony".

The parchments do mention rituals.

Roland somewhat admired Claudia Hayan Cavendish.

She obviously didn't learn the Fucino language, but she deciphered part of the ritual information by relying on the scattered characters she collected.

certainly.

Mostly wrong.

Roland noticed that there was a special word mentioned in Jocelyn's notes.

"Secret Meeting of the Hanging Key"——

secret meeting.

Roland muttered softly, and a thick white mist poured out from the leather scroll and filled the room.

'Secret meeting...'

The sound faded away intermittently.

After the fog filled his vision, Roland heard the sound of waves hitting the cliff.

It flew past my ears and was replaced by a flapping sound.

"My father was not as capable as I was back then."

The mist shattered into white dust that filled the sky, falling on the fluffy curls. The eloquent man sat on a high stool facing the old sunshine, covering his face with a conical beak mask, which made his voice sound much duller and more powerful.

"Yes, yes, when it comes to surnames, your generation is extraordinary." The barber slapped his powder puff and danced around the man like a conductor: layers of dust were flying and fluttering. Falling like snowflakes.

Falling on the wig.

Choking terribly.

The barber walked lightly and pushed the window open a crack as he passed by.

"I can't stand those people smearing lard on their heads. The father of all things, there are still people who use paste?"

The man with the bird's beak muttered, and the five fingers on the armrest rose and fell one after another. Those rings were more dazzling than the sun.

"Ahem... you're right. I've seen paste used." The barber couldn't breathe well and couldn't help but cough a few times. "It sticks to the wig, like a white-haired pig without an owner."

"Indeed they are." The man with the bird's beak muttered a 'joke'.

The barber followed, coughing and laughing.

"It seems that your business is not very easy to do." The man with the beak changed his posture and crossed his legs. "Most people don't care about this bit of decency. Their brains are not smart, and they are lazy about the things under their heads. They still want What decency.”

Hearing this, the barber couldn't help complaining: "I can't understand the various bills in the Parliament recently. They insist on establishing some kind of federation. We don't want us to treat patients and save people. I guess those members are not as good as me: they have no knowledge and no skills." Not sharp enough either.”

"What's the difference between getting a haircut? It's all about craftsmanship."

The beaked man yawned.

He didn't care about the bills that were of no use to him, but he was in a good mood today, so he reluctantly gave the barber a few words: "I don't think you are doing this anymore. It's better to invest in something than running around all day." powerful."

"invest?"

The barber paused for a moment, then continued to powder the air: "What kind of investment is my little money? It's not as good as your emergency."

The beaked man laughed.

His eyes were squinted in the dust, light blue and shrewdness mixed into a condescending look.

“Sometimes, choice is more important than hard work.”

"You are right." The barber hooked his toes behind his other leg and gave a strange and playful closing ceremony. "You also have a wife with a good family."

"Ah, that's the most accurate description." Talking about his marriage choice, the bird-beaked man seemed happier than being praised for his career. "However, I would rather people praise her beauty and intelligence than her family." , her beauty and intelligence are outstanding...Cavendish? It is the good luck of their family that Cavendish can give birth to such a girl.”

The man with the beak was in a lively mood and kept talking.

Especially after the barber's questions tickled him.

"I see you are in a particularly good mood today."

"Haha! Although they said that my previous career was inseparable from the help of marriage, even though they knew that I had a shrewd mind - you are not the first person to ask me for my secrets." Mr. Taylor jumped his legs happily, "They said, 'Old Taylor, what's your secret?'"

"'Is it bravery or adventure?'"

"Neither."

"I tell them: all you need is a smart, shrewd mind." Taylor puffed out his chest and said proudly, "Nothing else is needed."

The barber patted his palms lightly, went around the man's back, and fixed his wig for him.

"You are right, sir, your mind is your greatest wealth." The barber tied the wig behind the man's head and trimmed the shape, "It's a pity for those of us who don't have a bright mind, and we have a hard time living."

"Being poor is much more expensive than being rich." Taylor smiled meaningfully.

The barber didn't understand: "What do you mean by this?"

"When you have money, they will give you things for free... They can't wait to give them to you," Taylor shook off his curls a few times, put down his bird-beak-shaped roll-up paper mask, and said casually: "Check out."

He stood up with help and was about to touch his coat at the door.

The barber hurriedly stopped him.

"Oh! My sir! It's my honor to have you here! Why bother about that little money?" The barber put his coat on Taylor and bowed twice with great precision, "May you and your beautiful and wise wife be healthy - the young master and the young lady too."

Mr. Taylor's face froze for a moment, then he smiled, patted his shoulder, and generously wished him back: "Change your profession, and I wish you all the best."

Push the door and walk out.